


Love Amongst the Bookshelves

by everlovingdeer



Series: Harry Potter Short Stories [107]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eventual Relationships, F/M, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Paparazzi, Post-Hogwarts, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 23:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21346795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everlovingdeer/pseuds/everlovingdeer
Summary: “Really, where has your courage gone?” I wondered as I watched him closely. “If you like someone then you should just tell them. Don’t you think?”
Relationships: Harry Potter/Original Female Character(s), Harry Potter/Reader
Series: Harry Potter Short Stories [107]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1461751
Comments: 2
Kudos: 212





	1. Love Amongst the Bookshelves

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted to other sites on 30/01/18 and it's been edited slightly before being posted onto here

My bookshop, one I opened following the end of the second war, was my pride and joy. It might have been just a small shop located in the middle of one of the busiest shopping streets in magical Britain, but it was mine. I hadn’t headed into politics like the majority of my family had and instead, I followed my own passions. Whilst to other people the small shop might have been a disappointment compared to the other accomplishments made by the illustrious Glenn family, to me it was no less important. The income might not have been as secure as it would have been had I started to work for the ministry, but it was enough for me. Even if I did sometimes need to put in an ungodly number of hours to keep the store running. 

Following the war, many had taken to publishing their own biographies or autobiographies about what they had experienced and one of the most popular had been published last year, one the first anniversary of the war. Written by George Weasley in an attempt to grieve for his dearest brother, the autobiography was eventually published after he’d been approached by multiple publishing companies. It was one of the best-selling books in the country and on a regular basis I needed to restock the shelf at the front of the shop. As I placed the last of the books on the shelf, I heard the door swing open and glancing my shoulder at towards the door, I called out a welcoming greeting. 

Pushing away from the shelf, I smiled warmly at the approaching witch. Granger was one of my loyal customers and for a shop that had been open for just over 6 months, it was customers like her that helped to keep my business afloat. 

The witch responded with a greeting of her own and headed towards the counter as she waited for me to arrive. When I took my position behind the till she smiled warmly at me. 

“That book I asked you to order in,” she started curiously, “I was wondering if it arrived yet?”

“You’re in luck,” I assured her as I turned to disappear into the back room, “it arrived this morning.”

The book had been delivered just minutes before the shop itself opened and I’d placed it in the back so I knew where it was in case the witch came looking for it. Grabbing the box from the back, I returned to the till in time to hear Granger call out to Potter. I glanced around the shop in confusion, not having realised that someone else had walked in. But sure enough, Potter was standing at the display stand that showcased the copies of George Weasley’s autobiography. He scanned over the back cover of the book curiously, putting the book down at the sound of Granger’s voice. He followed the sound, approaching the till and his steps slowed for a moment at the sight of me as if he hadn’t expected to see me. 

“Good morning,” I greeted a little uncertainty as I opened the box with Granger’s book in to scan it. Once the security tag was removed, I handed the book off to the waiting Gryffindor who paid with a grateful smile as she turned the book to the back to read the blurb. 

By the time I had placed the money into the till Granger was already turning away to make her way to work. Meeting my eyes for a final time, she waved goodbye as she said, “Have a good day!”

“You too,” I called out with a smile, eyes shifting slowly to the man who remained standing by the counter. My eyebrows rose slightly as I asked, “Is there something I can help you with?”

Granger, realising that her companion hadn’t followed after her, called out to him and it was only then that he looked away from me. “I’ll be next door Harry, come and find me when you’re ready.”

“I won’t be long,” he promised, giving her another smile and watching her leave the store. 

It was when he turned to look at me again, that I called out to him curiously, “Potter?”

“How have you been?” he asked suddenly, making me furrow my eyebrows slightly, “I haven’t seen you since the battle.”

“Busy,” I said shortly, looking away from him and towards the newspaper, I’d shoved under the counter when I’d arrived at work. “But you’ve been busier – your face is on the front cover of every paper in the country. Almost every day at that.”

“I can’t help that,” he confessed, flushing to the tip of his ears. He adjusted his glasses on his face before clearing his throat. “I looked for you after the battle.”

His sudden confession rendered me speechless. I wanted to ask him why but I didn’t. Nonetheless, it was a pressing question on my mind; during our time at Hogwarts, I couldn’t remember ever having spoken to him. We were in different houses; he had been sorted into Gryffindor and I was a Ravenclaw – we’d had very little reason to interact. Although, I _had _been there to see the entirety of his failed relationship with Cho.

At some point, without my permission, the silence had grown awkward and Potter shuffled on his feet and spoke to fill the silence. “I asked around and no one had seen you but you weren’t listed as being one of the causalities either, so –?”

“During the respite,” I began, watching him closely and trying to understand the reason for his behaviour, “I was shipped off to St Mungo’s for treatment; I took an unknown spell to the chest and it left me unable to do anything.”

“But you’re better now, right?”

“Completely healed,” I assured him. It was funny that if anyone _other _than him had reacted in such a way I might have taken to thinking that they had some sort of crush on me. But not him. I was certain we’d never spoken or interacted for that matter so that ruled that possibility out. So, what was it then?

“I’m glad,” he said with a relieved smile and it was only when someone cleared their throat behind him that he realised he was holding the lineup. Moving out of the way, he gestured for the customer to step in front of him, “I’m going to go now – I guess I’ll see you later?”

Nodding with a slightly awkward smile, I watched as he walked out of the shop before turning my attention back to my customer. Now that was just odd. 

* * *

Naturally, the last thing I had expected was for Potter to actually turn up at the shop again. Saying that you’d see someone later was just a thing that people did; they didn’t actually try to see that person again. It was a formality, something that people didn’t try to stick to. That was why, when he turned up at the shop a few weeks after his first visit, I had been genuinely surprised by his sudden appearance. 

Taking one look around the shop at the number of customers that were milling around the newest display section, he headed straight towards the counter to ask, “Have I turned up at the wrong time? It looks like you’re busy?”

“Business has picked up over the last few weeks,” I admitted quietly. Clearing my throat, I asked, “How have you been?”

“Completely swamped,” he admitted with a sigh. “I’m going through Auror training at the moment and as if that’s not hard enough, I’m having to dodge all the reporters too.” And as if to prove his point, a pair of journalists, each carrying a camera trailed past the shop and peered in through the window. With his back to the reporters, Potter was no more attention-worthy than the rest of my customers and the reporters just carried on their way. 

“Why don’t you just give them an interview and get it over with?” I suggested, gesturing for him to move out of the way so I could deal with the next customer.

Potter stepped aside with an apologetic smile and I took the small stack of books from the customer to ring up the total.

“I’ve tried it,” he admitted with a roll of his eyes, watching as I bagged the books and handed them back to the customer once they’d paid. “But it doesn’t work. Giving an interview to one, just make the others more determined to get one.”

“Sounds like someone’s complaining about their popularity,” I tried to tease but he just sighed again. Clearing my throat, I asked, “Did you need something from me, or –?”

He straightened up as if suddenly remembering that he had walked into the shop for a reason. Tucking his hands into his coat pocket, he explained steadily, “Hermione’s birthday is coming up soon and I’ve tried to think of something to get her but I have no idea. Then I remembered that she’s a regular customer here so I was wondering if you had any ideas?”

“You want to buy the bookworm a book for her birthday?” I surmised, “That’s a bit obvious, isn’t it?”

“But she’s guaranteed to love it.” He shrugged, “If I get her something I think she might like, there’s always a chance that she won’t and she’ll be stuck with having to pretend that she likes something she doesn’t.”

“I think I have an idea,” I admitted, coming out from behind the counter and gesturing for him to follow after me. Potter trailed after me as I explained from over my shoulder, “Granger tends to stop by the shop at least once a week and I guess she and Weasley made a deal about the number of books she’d try and limit herself too?”

“Her and Ron have moved in together,” he explained when I gave him a look, “He’s trying to limit that amount of space they give books in their apartment.”

“Regardless,” I turned my back to him as I scanned the bookshelf and eventually pulled one out, “whatever the reason is – she was staring at this book for a while and I guess she’s already reached her limit so she had to put this one down. Rather reluctantly at that.”

“Thanks,” he said with a sudden boyish grin that took me by surprise. Rowena, I hadn’t ever remembered Potter looking like _that _when we’d been in Hogwarts. 

“I’ll ring this up for you,” I offered, taking the chance to brush past him and leave him behind. 

He followed a short distance behind me, watching as I scanned the book. Potter paid for the book in silence and when I handed him the bag, I expected him to leave straight away because that was what customers did after they got their bag. But he didn’t. He hesitated for a moment, moving the bag between his hands and I watched his obvious nervous gesture with close eyes.

“Did you want something else?” I prompted. 

He hesitated again before giving up and shaking his head. “No – no, it’s nothing.”

But he waited a little longer again before turning on his heels and walking out of the shop with heavy footsteps. I watched his retreating back with curious eyes; if there was something he wanted to say then why didn’t he just say it? What was the point in beating around the bush? You’d just end up regretting not saying it in the end. But who was I to be giving him that advice? 

* * *

A few days after Potter’s last visit, I found myself at the shop in the morning to open up for the day. I reached into my pocket to grab my keys to unlock the shop when suddenly someone was at my side. I reacted before thinking; instead of pulling my keys out of my pocket, I pulled out my wand and levelled it at the person. My heart thumped madly in my chest only to ease when I realised it was just Potter. Rowena, almost two years on after that bloody battle and I was still reacting like this. It made me wonder whether any of the other students that stayed to fight ever reacted in the same way; did they ever have the same PTSD-like symptoms? 

Potter himself was startled by the sudden movement and he paused, blinking at me with wide eyes. I lowered my wand to my side and he let out a relieved breath. 

“I’m sorry,” he said genuinely, “I think out of everyone, I should be one of the people that knows best of the lasting effects of the war.”

“No, I should be the one apologising,” I insisted quietly as I shoved my wand back into my pocket and retrieved my keys. “But what are you doing here anyway?”

He held up a coffee cup tray, “I’m here to make a coffee delivery.”

“For me?” I wondered, watching as he nodded with a smile.

“To thank you for your help with Mione’s present,” he explained before shivering slightly.

I frowned, looking him over. “You’re really _not _dressed for this weather, Potter.”

“It _is _cold outside,” he agreed, shuffling on his feet a little as if to warm himself up. “Why don’t we head inside to avoid the cold?”

“Oh right.” Turning back towards the door, I unlocked it and pushed it open, gesturing for him to head inside first. 

Following after Potter, I headed straight for that counter and took my coat off. Snagging my wand from my pocket, I threw my coat haphazardly over the counter before approaching the fireplace in the reading section I’d made in the store. Once I had lit the fireplace, I pointlessly rearranged the cushions on the comfy chairs in front of the fire before gesturing towards Potter to join me on one of the chairs. 

His eyebrows rose a little in surprise but he joined me with no complaints. “You should probably warm yourself up before you completely freeze.”

“Thanks,” he said with a small grin, stretching his hands out towards the fire as if to warm them. 

“Honestly, how old are you to not know when to wear your coat? It’s probably minus something degrees outside. Did you even cast a warming charm?”

“I guess I forgot,” he said with a sheepish grin and I rolled my eyes. He straightened up suddenly, reaching towards the coffee cup holder that he’d set down on the floor and picked one up to hold out towards me. “Here – this is yours.”

I accepted the cup with a small smile and because he was watching, I raised it to my lips only to wince at the taste. He laughed at my reaction, raising his own cup of bitter poison to his lips.

“I take it that you’re not much of a coffee person then,” he guessed, leaning back in his chair. 

“I’m more of a tea person,” I admitted with a sheepish smile. “Not that I don’t appreciate the thought.”

“Tea,” he murmured after a moment, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“What for?” I asked, glancing curiously towards him. He turned his head to meet my eyes but didn’t answer. Instead, he looked back towards the fireplace and raised his coffee cup to his lips again. I couldn’t force myself to take another sip so I settled on using the heat from the cup to warm my hands instead. 

“Did Granger like the book then?” I asked to break the silence that had settled between the pair of us.

“Loved it, more like. She wondered how I knew her so well.” Chuckling a little, he shook his head as he admitted, “I owe you one.”

“Well, I think the coffee made up for it.”

“You don’t even _like _coffee,” he pointed out before reaching into his pocket to withdraw a piece of paper. He held it out towards me and I looked at it, recognising it as a list of book titles. “That’s from Mione. She was wondering if you’d be able to set them aside for her. She said she’s busy today or else she’d come and pick them herself. She’ll drop by after work to pick them up.”

“I should probably do that now,” I admitted as I rose to my feet, “whilst the books are all still here.”

As I walked away from the fireplace and towards the bookshelf in search of the first book on the list, I felt Potter’s eyes on me. But it wasn’t as unnerving as it had been the first time. It was a comfortable weight. And that in itself surprised me more than his sudden appearance this morning.

Potter waited until I had pulled the first book from the shelf before speaking again, “After work, today, are you busy?”

That was all it took for the final puzzle piece to click into place. Somehow, I understood why the ‘Boy-Who-Lived’ was suddenly revolving around my little shop, around me but Merlin, it still made no sense to me. Why me?

Looking back at him, I asked quietly, “Why?”

But he hesitated again, maintaining my stare. Eventually, he pushed out of his chair with a sigh. “It’s nothing. I should probably get going and leave you to your work.”

And just like that, he left the shop without another word. I turned my attention back to the list in front of me and couldn’t help but shake my head. Honestly, wasn’t he supposed to be Harry Potter? Where had all his Gryffindor courage gone?

* * *

Potter’s delivery of tea continued almost every morning and as each day past, he had gotten better at knowing when to arrive. At the beginning he would find himself having to wait outside for me in the cold until at some point, he started arriving outside the shop _just _as I did. And every day I took my cup with a smile and simply opened the door to let him in to escape the cold.

Today had been no different. I had accepted the tea with a smile and let him inside. Shrugging out of my coat, I pointed towards the back of the shop when he asked to use the toilet and within the space of mere seconds, it all went to the dogs. There was a knock on the door and I glanced curiously towards the sound, wondering whether it was one of the customers who happened to show up before the shop opened for business. But I was wrong. From the window, I could see the pack of cameras waiting outside as reporters tried to get a look in. My eyes shot instantly towards the bathroom door where Harry was bound to come out. With hurried steps, I approached the door just as it was about to open and pushed him back inside. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he exclaimed, trying to push against me to open the door. 

“I’m really sorry Potter but do me a favour and stay in there until I let you out again?”

“Are you mad?” he exclaimed, voice travelling through the door. “Why do I need to stay in here?”

“Because there’s about two dozen reporters about to force their way into my shop and if you’re here chances are that they’re going to pester you and I don’t think you want that so early in the morning.”

“But they’ll just bother you instead,” he insisted, managing to force the door open.

“Just do me a favour and stay in here?” I insisted, widening my eyes to prove how serious I was. “Please?”

He sighed, turning away from me to shut the door again and I let out a relieved breath. Heading back towards the front of the shop, I let out a surprised gasp when the reporters who had grown tired of waiting in the cold, opened the door anyway and poured into my small shop. They flooded in, practically trampling over each other to get towards me. I shrieked in surprise, backing up until I reached the counter and ducked behind it to use it as a barrier. 

Realising that I was at their focus, I shuffled uneasily on my feet. My mind whirred as I tried to figure out a way to get them to leave my shop without causing them to fuss. But that didn’t seem very likely.

Instead, I cleared my throat and asked, “Is there anything I can help you with?”

They all spoke over each other and the cacophony of sound was especially grating on my ears so early in the morning. Once they understood that I couldn’t understand a single word of what they were saying, they all stopped speaking. The reporter closest to the counter, a middle-aged man with a receding hairline, took it upon himself to speak first.

“There’s been reports of Mr Potter hanging around this shop.”

“This is a bookshop,” I explained, gesturing to the bookshelves as if they hadn’t noticed them. “I tend to get quite a few customers throughout the day.”

“He’s here daily,” a voice from the back of the crowd shouted out. “It’s understandable for Miss Granger but what business does Mr Potter have to be visiting a bookshop on a daily basis?”

“He’s normally here to pick up a package for Granger,” I defended, looking over the crowd of them with helpless eyes. 

They jeered in unison as if not believing my words and I bit my bottom lip as they suddenly began to shout out questions towards me, demanding to know my relationship with Potter. The cameras they’d brought with them suddenly went off as they pushed closer to the counter to try and get a better picture and I backed up, wincing against the bright lights. Using a hand to shield my face from the light, I tried to get their attention but they didn’t listen. 

“We just went to Hogwarts together!” I exclaimed, watching as someone forced their way through the crowd. 

I felt my heart drop, believing it to be another reporter who had decided to encroach on my personal space. But soon the crowd began to part to let the person through and I had never been so grateful to see Granger in my life. She walked towards the counter as if it was completely normal for there to be so many journalists in my shop.

“Are you alright?” she asked quietly, leaning against the counter to speak to me.

“I am now,” I said as I straightened up and smiled gratefully towards her. “What are you doing here?”

“The books I asked you to order,” she asked, “did they come in yet?”

“They’re in the back – let me just go and get them.”

Disappearing into the storeroom at the back of the shop, I returned with arms full of her books. By the time I returned, Granger was talking to the reporter’s arms crossed as she threatened to talk to the relevant authorities and have their jobs revoked. The journalists slowly began to leave one by one as they listened to her rant about how they were disturbing business and they didn’t have a right to do that. Slowly they filed out, grumbling as they did so and only when they had all left, did Granger turn back towards me. 

“Thanks,” I said with a grin as I began to scan each of her books.

“My pleasure,” she insisted with a smile, pulling her purse out from her bag to pay for her books. “They came here for Harry right, so, where is he?”

Suddenly remembering, I pointed towards the toilets where Potter peeked out from behind the door. He glanced around the shop, searching for the reporters but finding them all gone, he stepped out and cleared his throat. 

“Sorry about that,” he said as he cleared his throat. “I didn’t think they’d force their way in here.”

“It’s fine,” I assured him as I glanced at my watch. “But aren’t the pair of you going to be late for work if you keep hanging around here?”

Potter, suddenly realising what time it was, reluctantly prepared to leave and he would have hesitated for longer had Granger not linked her arm through his and practically dragged him away. When the pair of them left the shop, it was silent again and that was only natural because technically the shop wasn’t even open yet. But the silence suddenly seemed too loud.

With a sigh, I came out from behind the counter to pick up one of the display stands that the reporters had managed to knock over in their haste to get inside the shop. Crouching down to pick up the fallen books, I wondered whether it was the existence of journalists like those that I’d met today, that were the reason behind Potter’s hesitance. 

* * *

Naively I had believed that nothing would come from the media presence in my shop, as if the incident would just disappear into the wind. But the very opposite happened. Within the span of a day, the publication of the articles began and one by one all of the major newspapers – both tabloid and broadsheet – had articles printed speculating my relationship with him. Each successive article sent my life into more of a tailspin than the last. And, as a result, the media presence both outside and _inside _the shop had increased. But then again, so had the number of customers I received.

Although half of those customers were women who apparently were after the golden boy himself and were trying to ‘eye up the competition’. But the other half were made up of genuine book lovers like myself who, after finding out that Granger was a regular customer of mine, decided to stop by and take a look. 

After the publication of the first article and the subsequent media presence at my shop, I had owled Harry to tell him that maybe it would be best for him to stay away from the shop for a while. His presence would only make the number of rumours increase even more and that was rather counterproductive. Besides, they’d soon get bored anyway of waiting for him to appear only for him to never turn up. They’d decide to leave on their own. Besides, I’d learned the hard way that no matter how often I protested their presence and tried to get them to leave, they just didn’t listen to me. 

I was stuck behind the counter, dealing with a long line of customers when suddenly, people started scrambling towards the door. Cameras began to click madly and I rose to my toes to try and peer around the long line to see what was going on. But it was pointless, I couldn’t see a thing. I watched in concern as people pushed each other out of the way to try and get to the door and someone actually fell over from the force. Calling out for them to be careful, my voice trailed off at the sight of the person that had managed to incite so much life in the occupants of the shop. Merlin, he really didn’t listen, did he?

I wanted to complain about his sudden presence, but I didn’t. Instead, I watched in silence as Harry pushed his way through the crowd to approach the counter where I was standing. When he reached it, he sighed and looked around the shop before turning his eyes back to me. 

“Are you alright?” he asked gently, a deep-set frown on his face. “Do you need anything?”

“What are you doing here?” I asked, watching in surprise as he walked around the counter to join me and just like that, my customers were forced out of the way so the journalists could get closer. I cried out in shock, trying to chastise them but it was pointless.

“Ron said he dropped by yesterday to pick a package up for Mione, and he told me about the journalists.” He let out a sharp breath, glaring impatiently at the number of cameras. “I couldn’t continue to stay away after hearing that. Do you need me to say something to them?”

“I don’t see how that will help,” I admitted as the cameras began to flash wildly and I winced against the bright light. “If anything, it’ll only make things worse.”

Harry turned towards me, trying to hear me over the wild chatter but that only made things worse. The reporters that hadn’t yet taken any pictures were set off by the action and I actually stumbled back from the blinding light. Harry, already used to the attention, reached out to steady me with a hand. 

“Are you alright?” he whispered for my ears only. 

“I’ve changed my mind,” I declared, reaching out to fist his jumper. “Get rid of them. Please.”

Harry nodded, clearing his throat as he turned away from me to address the journalists who suddenly quietened, realising that he was about to speak. I stepped closer to Harry, moving behind him as if to hide behind him. 

“I’ll only speak once,” he stated firmly to silence those reporters that continued to speak. “If you miss it, it’s your own fault. There is no relationship between the pair of us – although that’s not to say that I don’t wish there was.”

I glanced sharply towards him, “Harry –”

He continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “At the moment things are very one-sided and you coming here to disturb her really isn’t helping things to progress any further. So, can you please leave before we have to contact the authorities about this?” Indistinct chatter began as the reporters began to speak all at once. Harry sighed through his nose, speaking loudly so they’d hear him over their mindless chatter. “If you leave now and promise not to hound her any more, I’ll begin to give out interviews again.”

The promise was enough to have the reporters leaving one by one. They hesitated to snap one last picture before hurrying out of the shop. My customers that had previously been pushed out of the way slowly formed a line once again and waited expectantly for me to serve them. But I didn’t do that just yet.

Coming out from behind Harry, I watched him with concerned eyes; I knew how much he hated giving interviews to them so why did he make such a stupid promise? He met my eyes head-on, waiting for me to say something about the declaration he’d made of his interest. But really, I already knew about it anyway. Even though I already knew it, that didn’t mean I knew how to respond to him either. 

My chance to respond was snatched away anyway when Weasley appeared in the doorway to my shop. The redhead stepped into the shop in search of his best friend and spying him at my side, he hurried to my counter. 

“There you are mate,” he said, casting a brief glance in my way. His voice was enough to make Harry look away from me, “We need to get going. The head of the department is going mad looking for you.”

“You should probably go,” I added slowly, stepping away from Harry who was very reluctantly forced to leave.

Forcing my attention back to my line of customers, I addressed the first person in the queue. “I’m very sorry about that. I’ll try and see to you all as soon as possible.”

* * *

The next morning, as I prepared to open up the store for another day of business, I hadn’t expected for Harry to restart his daily tea delivery. Truthfully, I hadn’t expected to see him for a while because of what had happened yesterday. And I certainly hadn’t expected to see him it to be as awkward as it was. Even just the sight of him standing in the open doorway of the shop with the cup holder in one hand and a black paper bag in the other, had me pausing in my step as I rearranged the display featuring the week’s bestseller. I watched as he stepped inside, casting a glance around before he looked back to me and approached me. Merlin, I couldn’t think of a single thing to say to him.

“I brought you breakfast,” he explained, holding the brown paper bag slightly higher. “I remember you said something about having to rush out of the house sometimes.”

“Thank you,” I said quietly, wondering why I was avoiding his eyes as I took the bag and my cup of tea from him. “You really didn’t need to bother.”

“It was my pleasure,” he assured me, joining me as I took a seat in front of the fireplace. His eyes were heavy on me as I picked at the breakfast bagel he’d brought me. Settling down into his seat with a sigh, he asked, “Did the reporters come back and bother you after I left?”

“They didn’t come back,” I assured him before pausing and glancing curiously towards him. “Maybe it was because you promised to start taking interviews again. I can’t imagine that they want to find themselves blacklisted from the chance of interviewing you.”

“Maybe,” he agreed with a sceptical laugh, raising his cup of coffee to his lips.

“But why did you do it?” I voiced the question that had been bugging me since yesterday. “I know how much you hate giving those interviews but why did you voluntarily offer to give them one in the first place.”

“Because they’d keep bothering you otherwise,” he answered as if I’d asked him what colour the sky was. 

Clearing my throat, I hesitated for a moment as I wondered how to begin to ask what I wanted to ask. “What you said to the reporters yesterday –”

“It was the truth,” he cut in adamantly and I briefly wondered just what it was that he thought I was going to ask him but instead I simply met his eyes head-on. 

We shared a brief nod before I admitted, voice barely anything more than a whisper, “I know.” Surprise flickered across his features and I tried not to smile at that. “But why didn’t you do anything about it sooner?” 

He stared at me for a moment, not understanding what I meant. Eventually, he licked his lips before asking, “About the reporters or –?”

“Really, where has your courage gone?” I wondered as I watched him closely. “If you like someone then you should just tell them. Don’t you think?”

This time he understood and his lips parted a little as he suddenly started to avoid my eyes. “I’ve never had any courage around girls; they manage to scare me more than any dark wizard ever could.” He glanced towards me as he added, “Especially the ones that I really like.”

We shared a smile before I smothered it and teased, “Well, maybe you should do something about it before they get bored of waiting around.”

“I will,” he assured me with a gentle smile. “What are you doing this weekend?”

“Something tells me that I’m going on a date with you.”


	2. Epilogue: 10 Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hi,” he said quietly, likely remembering that it was past bedtime and the kids were asleep. 
> 
> “Why is ‘hi’ the first thing you say?” I allowed myself to complain, voice trembling slightly as I crossed the space between us with quick footsteps until I was in front of him.

_10 YEARS LATER_

There were very few moments when our house was so silent and one of those times was bedtime. The moment that all the kids were in bed brought some much-needed peace to our bustling family home. It was a time that Harry and I normally welcomed with open arms. But for the past few days, I hadn’t been able to do that. Lately, whenever the kids went to bed, the house seemed _too _quiet and I was always tempted to let them stay awake a little longer but that would just ruin their routine. It wasn’t their fault that their father wasn’t home. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. 

It was just that one of his missions had run too long. This wasn’t the first time it had happened either. But it was certainly the first time that the ministry hadn’t been able to get into contact with the Auror team and that was enough to have a shiver running down my spine. I couldn’t let the kids see that, or else they’d get scared too. 

Closing the storybook that I was supposed to be reading the boys, I set it aside and looked at the beds where my boys were already sleeping. Rising to my feet, I made sure they were tucked in properly before walking towards the window which overlooked the street below. I stared out into the distance for a long moment, as if doing so would grant me with a glimpse of Harry. But as always, it didn’t. 

Drawing away from the window, I made sure that the night lamp was switched on before leaving the boy’s shared room. I walked down the stairs and set about making sure that everything was locked and that the wards were in place; maybe an early night’s sleep was what I needed. Not that it would help either way – it wasn’t like I’d be able to get much sleep either. My mind would work in overdrive until Harry returned. It was just one of the consequences of being married to an Auror who tended to be assigned to these big cases.

My steps slowed at the sound of the fireplace kicking to life. Step by step I approached the front room, gradually quickening my pace until I stood in the doorway and watched Harry – a very battered and bruised Harry – tumble out of the fireplace. A sharp, relieved gasp left me as I looked him over from head to toe, the sound alerting him to my presence. Harry looked towards me with a small smile that never failed to make butterflies erupt in the bit of my stomach. Rowena, it was good to see that smile again. 

“Hi,” he said quietly, likely remembering that it was past bedtime and the kids were asleep. 

“Why is ‘hi’ the first thing you say?” I allowed myself to complain, voice trembling slightly as I crossed the space between us with quick footsteps until I was in front of him.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he said as he reached out and took me in his arms, rocking me slightly from side to side. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” I murmured against his shoulder, squeezing him tight in my arms, reluctant to let him leave again. 

Holding me close to him, I felt Harry nuzzle his nose into my hair and let out deep breaths as if to steady his heart. “I’m sorry, the mission ran –”

“I don’t want to know,” I cut in, drawing away from him so I could meet his eyes. “I don’t think my heart could take it.”

“Then I won’t say anything,” he promised, drawing way to hold me at arm’s length. “I’m going to go and freshen up; I feel like death.”

“_Harry._”

“Sorry,” he apologised with a wince. “I spoke without thinking. Is it too late to get some food? I’m starving.”

“Go and shower,” I said, kissing him quickly, “I’ll have food waiting for you.”

“Thank you,” he said leaning down to kiss me again. “Love you.”

I stood still, watching as he walked up the stairs to shower before heading off to the kitchen to see what I could make on such short notice. Only he was gone for a rather long while. By the time I had finished cooking and placed the food on the table, I went off in search of my husband and from the top of the stairs, I saw him walk out of our bedroom with a towel slung around his neck. 

He crossed the hallway, not noticing my presence and ducked into the boy’s room. I followed silently after him and stood in the doorway to watch as he perched on Albus’ bed. Harry stared down at Albus for a moment before brushing some of the hair of his forehead. Slowly, doing his best not to wake our youngest, Harry rose from the bed and crossed the room to kneel in front of James’ bed. He did the same to James – reaching out a tentative hand to brush a hand over his hair.

But James was a light sleeper, he had been since he was born. His father’s hand in his hair work James up and he blinked bleary eyes up at Harry and began to speak intelligibly. 

“Go back to sleep,” Harry assured him, patting his back. “We can talk in the morning.”

Harry remained where he was, patting James on the back until he fell asleep again. He spent a little longer making sure that James actually had fallen asleep before he rose to his feet and fixed the blanket around him. Turning to leave the room, Harry paused in his step when he saw me standing in the doorway. 

We stepped out into the hallway, and Harry shut the door behind him. I watched him in concern as I asked quietly, “Are you alright?”

“I’m alright,” he reassured me, reaching out to hold my hand. “Just glad that I’m finally home.”


End file.
